Fall of the Three Brothers
by clubarm
Summary: Another Diablo II narration here. Will eventually include all of the main characters, sooner or later. Has interesting little twists. Have fun reading. Title pending.


Hey there, first time fanfic writer here. Uh, please be gentle? Anyway, by no means do I own Diablo, or anything associated with the games. The names, for the characters, however, are based off of names that have been used in the past in my or other people's games.

A warning: the story may not be totally accurate. I'm really writing this for my own amusement, and off of memory at that. I know how fans can be, so please don't rip my head off for inaccuracies, alrighty? **I rather like my head.** If the mistakes are so bad, then chalk it up as an AU. I dunno.

Um. ILU? 8D

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"Soray!"

The sound of her name cut through the darkness, much like the sound of loose plates of full plate armor clanking against each other. The dark haired sorceress turned to look back at the rather frustrated looking paladin; a corner of her lips turning up slowly to make a mischievous smile on her dark, exotic features. Her voice, when she spoke, was full of amusement, as if she knew what she was doing.

Ah, yes, she knew what mischief it caused. "What is it, Tarram?"

The paladin paused, seemingly inches away from her face, raising a finger to point at her. Surely, the man was intimidating…but not so much with rusted full plate. He spoke slowly, as if thinking every word that he thought up over with the utmost care…before most likely throwing it off to the side. For all of thirty seconds, he looked almost as if he were a fish out of water, dying from suffocation. Opening his mouth, then closing it. Open, close. Open, close, open—

"Tarram," Soray spoke after this time, placing both hands on her hips, and canting her head to the side. An eyebrow quirked up, just a little. Yes, it bugged the man very much so, and boy…was she enjoying ever second of it. "We really don't have all day. It's already dark, and creatures are lurking about."

This was the last straw on the holy mount's back.

"That's just **it**, sister!" He snapped, leaning backwards as if to look up at the sky for a brief moment. His hands, they were held upward into the air, and they clenched halfway into fists absentmindedly from frustration. "These lands are plagued in darkness! Nowhere in this place is safe—"

"And that's precisely why I'm here…!" The sorceress interrupted with quite the sing-songy 'I'm-right-you're-wrong' voice.

"No, you're here because of the possibility of riches and power."

"Okay, you can shut it." Soray snapped, as it was her round to play in the pointing finger game. Almost instantly, however, another smile came back up on her face. Hands clasped together, entwining fingers; then were held close to her breast. "Oh, brother, come on! It's the adventure of a lifetime! Don't you dare tell me that you would be one of the few to skip out on such? I know you aren't!"

"Soray—" Tarram started, and she could almost **hear** the gears grinding and turning in the older man's head.

Playing along, and doing so before her older brother had anything to do about it, she dropped her hands to her sides, and practically tiptoed over to his side. Placing both hands on Tarram's rusted shoulder plate, she looked up at him, much like a young puppy looked up at its master for pettings.

"Please…?" Her voice was meek, small…very well matching the expression on her face.

Tarram looked down at her, his expression hard and stern…

…then he looked down and groaned, his body going slack. The younger sister had won.

"I hate you, sometimes. Not really, but let's just, play pretend." He growled, as he went to trudge on along the path they were headed on just seconds before. Soray's expression became aglow again, as she followed after him with a jog. Tarram, however, was not done. "May Zakarum save us from whatever stupid adventures this gets us into."

All that came as a response to that was a simple 'pfft!' sound; the source being Soray.

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A nighttime mist came into the rogue camp, which seemed to make even the bravest of the archers shiver, and pull whatever cloaks they possessed around their bodies. The commander of the rogues, Kashya, did nothing to stop the inhumane chill – she knew that there really was nothing she could do about it. Why bother?

It penetrated anything and everything. It passed through any barrier, to reach its target, and achieve its goal: to freeze the soul, and to demoralize.

Yes, she knew of this feeling. It, really, was all too familiar.

A shiver ran down her spine, as she turned away from the gates. For a brief, moment in time, she sensed something…anger. A deep, deep hatred, towards her. She was rebelling. She was not afraid.

"I'm not afraid of you…" The commander said aloud, folding her arms across her chest; a sure-fire sign of complete defiance.

"Then, you must be stupid." A voice spoke up, from the mist. Kashya turned to look, a hand going to her hip, where a very sharp dagger lay ready to quench its thirst for blood. However…nothing was there. A small 'tch' sound escaped from between her lips. The voice, a female, spoke up again. This time it came from a different spot, a different angle. "Any intelligent being fears what is stronger than them, and is in turn feared by those weaker."

"And what does that make me?" The rogue spoke defiantly. "I don't quake in my boots at the mere though of him, and the sight did nothing for me neither!"

There was a soft sound, from behind her, like footsteps. Expertly, Kashya immediately ducked forward, under the singing blades of a katar. She immediately turned, twirling the dagger in her hand. The dagger stopped inches short of a neck, close to the jugular vein. She stopped, staring into the dark, cold eyes of a woman dressed in all black.

"An assassin." Kashya muttered quietly. The assassin just stood in place, as unafraid as Kashya was moments before. The rogue's eyes narrowed. "What do you want? What is your business in this place?"

"First off, do you mind removing your blade from my neck?" The assassin began to speak, her voice now a whisper. She certainly didn't expect to be caught in this situation. It was a little humiliating, to say the least.

Kashya hesitated for a moment.

"You have my word, I won't attack again."

Still no movement.

"I do know when I'm outmatched, you know."

Slowly, the blade was lowered. However, it was not put away.

"Try that again, assassin, and I'll have your neck."

All that came out was a soft 'heh', as the assassin relaxed. To make sure, she kept her hands in front of her. Kashya tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows knitting together.

"I'll ask only once more. Who are you, and why are you here?"

The assassin's face got, strangely serious. The whole time, the woman had a cocky little smirk that, in all honesty, ate at the rogue's nerves like maggots ate dead and rotting flesh. Now, it was almost as if the woman in all black was emotionless. Uncaring…as if nothing even effected her.

"The name is Cenes." The assassin started coldly. "And I'm here, because…"


End file.
